


Invocation

by orphan_account



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Boot Worship, D/s, Dirty Talk, Dominance/submission, Drinking, F/M, Het, Humiliation, I seriously want to hump Loki's boots right now, Invocation, Mentions of past F/F, Power Play, Ritual, Warning: Loki, Whiskey is Delicious, Wicca, word kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-02 22:25:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4076020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lonely little Wiccan invokes a little trickster mojo and gets much, much more than she can handle. Set during The Dark World at some point before Thor lets out Loki to go save the everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Invocation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prettypearlnecklace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prettypearlnecklace/gifts).



> Regarding the Non-Con tag: ~~the sex will be coerced and manipulated and at any rate gods and humans have unequal power so our l'il mortal can't ethically consent. I am completely cool with all levels of consent and lack thereof in fictional settings, and I feel like some of you may read this as more dub-con than outright 'non,' but with trigger warnings I tend to use abundant caution.~~ Nevermind. This ended up containing cold, straight up non-con. Oops?

 

Boredom was worse than death.

Stella sulked and skulked and frowned and pouted. She toyed with a broken necklace Matthew had left behind. He'd barely been gone two months but it felt like a year had passed since that night.  And if it had just been Matt, that alone would have been awful. But his absence wasn't the only hole left, not the only reason the apartment was silent and dark and lonely.

She watched the sun flare an orange argument against the gray-violet sky. She didn't move to light the lamp, just stared into the twilight until full darkness fell.

Venus rose, and then a curved blade of moon.

She picked up her phone and checked for messages. Again. 

Nothing. Unsurprising: the new habit was just a compulsive ritual, as if she could will her life to reform itself from the splinters of shattered relationships.

Hannah in rehab, Jay with Matt in their new place. A wave of guilt churned her belly when she remembered the look on Matt's face when he'd caught them, Stella’s head down between Hannah's thighs.

She needed to stop thinking and prodding those wounds.

Gods. She loathed boredom. She could cope with the loss and pain and rage but not this empty goddamn _nothing_.

She stared at the ceiling for several minutes, then finally switched on the lamp and grabbed the book on her nightstand. She tried to read a single page three times before cursing and throwing it at the wall. The book landed with a dull thud on the cedar chest she used as an altar. She winced. Stella liked to call herself irreverent, but it felt wrong to her that she'd upset the sacred space. 

"I could cast circle," she said aloud to the walls. That could be an outlet for her restless energy. 

Maybe she'd send Hannah some good mojo to help her get clean. 

_No_ , she decided the next instant. _No,_ fuck _Hannah._ Stella had given her far too much already. Addiction she understood as a medical condition, but whether or not passive-aggressive bullshit was a symptom of that or just a facet of Hannah's toxic personality didn’t matter in the end. Stella'd had to distance herself. Hannah was no longer Stella's concern. _Not my problem,_ she willed herself to believe.

She craved distraction, and she missed simple fun. Hannah had been her adventure, and since she'd gone life had seemed flat. Desaturated. Then Matt had declared their sin unforgivable and the real pain had struck. 

Stella mulled over possibilities for entertainment—well: distractions, at least. Something wild... Maybe a little dangerous. A tattoo? A dive bar? She had no cash at hand, and the full rent to produce now with the sudden lack of roommates.

She thought about how _ennui_ and _melancholy_ and even _insomnia_ were all elegant words for a goddamned ugly state of being.

She stewed a few minutes, weighing the plan to cast circle against coming up with something more novel. Nothing else came to mind. She retrieved the book from the trunk and righted the toppled statue of Dionysos.  

She flipped again through the worn pages of _Mythos and Magic of All Cultures._   

Oh. Inspiration.

Ritual could be playful. Why not? What better adventure was there, really? Maybe she’d try aspecting, her trad's euphemism for trance possession. She'd always had an aptitude for it, though it freaked out Jay, her sweet Faery Wiccan roommate, so she hadn't gone that deep since he'd been her ritual partner.

She'd call on some wild energy. Pan or some god or goddess of merriment. 

No—she'd go one better, a proper trickster archetype.

She considered the possibilities. She thought first of Eris, but no matter how she reminded herself of the goddess' legitimate history, Stella always thought of her as a character more than a goddess. She’d read _the Illuminatus! Trilogy_ and the _Principia Discordia_ a dozen times. 

Searching the book idly, she brainstormed:

Crow.  
Coyote.  
Ananzi.  
Wisakedjac. 

In the chapter of Slavic myth, she read over the story of Veles. A shapeshifter, favoring a bull or serpent, and nemesis of the thunder god Perun. The phrase _thunder god_ reminded her of Thor. She thought she remembered that Loki, in Norse myth, either fought or allied with Thor of the Aesir. She knew Loki was a trickster archetype, though she was a bit hazy on details of the Scandinavian pantheons. The Loki from the Battle of New York had been Thor's brother. She'd followed the heated online debates about whether the brothers were the Gods of myth or had inspired those myths. 

It was obvious to Stella: Tricksters are _tricksters_ , not megalomaniacs bent on genocide. She'd never bought the idea that a trickster was capable of true evil.

The name appealed to her, though, and the idea of aspecting him was a bit thrilling. As if tasting the idea, she whispered the name: "Loki." She liked the sound. It had a lyrical quality. Invoking an unfamiliar God was exciting. Maybe dangerous a little. Her purist mentor would definitely disapprove.

That idea deciding the issue, Stella sprang to her feet and starting digging through the trunk for her ceremonial materials.

Chalice  
Blade  
Candles  
Wand  
Incense  
Pentacle  
Salt

She wasn't sure what else she'd need to call on Loki, but tricksters tended to favor whiskey, and Stella wouldn't mind a shot or three herself.

 

* * *

 

Boredom was worse than death. 

Loki had not been posturing when he'd taunted Odin to swing the axe. The indignity of this punishment and the pristine brightness of his prison cell grated his nerves to a raw, jagged annoyance. Yes: death would be far preferable.

He hurled the book he'd been scanning against the wall. 

He paced.  
Scowled.  
Fumed. 

He made a summoning gesture toward the book, then remembered (again) that his magic had been bound. He stomped over and snatched up the book and then continued reading.

At last, Loki settled into the book, a history of the greatest Vanir sorcerers, and lost himself in the tales. 

 

* * *

 

Stella lit the last candle, calling in the elemental of water from the west. A wide circle was delineated on the floor: a ring of smooth, black river stones with a meandering trail of raw sugar swirling and winding around and between the stones. A reference to Loki's affection for sweets had prompted her to modify her usual salt circle. She'd lit candles around the room as well, and the ambient glow warmed her with the comforting sense memory of magical casting.

She lit a stick of incense and the spicy smoke rose in a thin, curling stream toward the high ceiling. The scent complimented the sweet burn lingering in her throat. 

She had sipped a double Jack Daniels on the rocks while quickly googling Loki. 

She'd found the familiar Internet clash amongst pagans and scholars: Was Loki, the black haired, rage-filled brother of the Avenger Thor the same as the red-haired, sometimes playful, sometimes dangerous Norse deity? So she'd filtered out 'Battle of New York', 'Avengers', and 'alien' and what remained was a mix of New Agers and neopagans warning that Loki Flame Hair should never be invoked and a lot of poorly worded prayers by those who clearly disagreed.

She'd been frustrated until stumbling on an image result that wasn't a painting or carving of the strange God but a piece of runic text with an English translation scrawled in the margins. She'd printed it out and brought it to her ritual space. 

"Alright, Trickster," she announced, "Let's get it on."   


* * *

 

Loki had finished the Vanir book and was jotting notes on a leaf of parchment at the small table in his cell, occasionally referencing the book for a detail, when he felt... something. It was an unreachable sensation, rather like the feel of a word almost on the tip of one's tongue but just out of grasp. It grew to something akin to an itch, only outside himself, and he looked around the cell, then walked its perimeter to examine the halls of the dungeon as well.

Everything and everyone were as they should be. He turned back to the table and chair when the air in front of him darkened a barely noticeable shade in a smallish amorphous space.

A shadow lay before him, cast apparently by nothing at all, and upon the air itself.  As it was obviously not his own magic, he was intrigued and wary in equal measure.   


* * *

 

Stella danced a little, just moving her hips and loosening herself up for the possession as she began to read:

_Loki Silvertongue, tell your lies_  
And let fall your cruelest truths  
Show the cut mirrors of your eyes  
And light flames in the places I fear to look.  
Trickskin Loki, bring your shadow blade,  
And cut through the masks I wear  
Show me my own true frightful face  
And teach me that I may hide nowhere.

A shiver slithered along Stella's spine, rattling her with a full body shudder. She'd never felt a charge this visceral in trance. 

_Come in, Silvertongue, and enter me,_  
I call out your names and your praise  
Rise up, flame-mouthed one and sing,  
shriek, and dance, scream and leave me changed.

Here Stella began to sway wildly, and the words of the chant were coming directly into her mind. She wasn't aware that the prayer sheet had fallen to the floor. 

Her eyes lost focus on the room, as if a dark veil had fallen over her eyes. The mellow glow of the whiskey had become a burning heat, radiating from guts to skin.

_Take me, this one your wild priest,_  
Who gives over to you in mind  
Who offers my body a feast  
Who will laugh and worship and echo your lies!  
  
 

* * *

 

Loki watched the not-shadow in the air begin to shimmer and dance. He was at once mesmerized and flummoxed by its presence. As he stared he began to hear a barely audible whisper. It seemed to come from deep behind his ears, in his own mind. 

He couldn't make out words at first, but as he listened the low murmur began to coalesce into quiet but distinct words. It was an old Midgardian prayer. He'd first heard those words an age ago, before the northmen of Midgard fell to other conquering tribes who forced out the worship of the Aesir and Vanir. 

The volume of the chant rose and the shimmering air resolved itself into a large space through which he could see a misted image of the priestess intoning the prayer. Loki’s head cocked to the side, that bird-like pose he struck when his curiosity was truly piqued.

Could she really do this? 

Loki had entertained such reveries about escape, each bloodier than the last. But he had never even dreamt of this scenario. This was so easy, he almost pitied poor Odin and his oh so noble golden son.

This… this was _delicious._

Loki listened and watched as the girl recited the prayer. Her pale eyes were glassy, and sweat had flattened locks of her white-blonde hair against her brow. She wore those rough blue trousers the humans favored, pleasingly fitted over the generous curves of her hips. A loose cotton tunic of a sort clung to her full breasts, and her bare feet danced lightly on the floor within her circle. 

_“It’s terribly hot,”_ Loki whispered into the girl’s mind, _“Why don’t you remove that stifling clothing, darling?”_

 

* * *

 

Stella's eyes were wide and the pupils swallowed her irises completely. She'd grown so hot she'd slipped out of her clothes, unaware of having done so. Her breathing was erratic and beads of sweat shone on her skin.

_Loki Wolf-Bearer, who gives monsters life,_  
Mother of Great Sleipnir, and of the serpent of this middle world  
Loki who changes all with bliss or with strife,  
Loki Skywalker both beloved and enemy of Gods and Lords  
Loki Liesmith, Loki of dark mirth and mad glee,  
Loki sly one, beautiful one,

_Come to me!_  
Come in to me, Loki!  
I have bled for thee  
And I summon thee  
Come to me now, I summon you  
Here and now! Come

_Come..._

 

* * *

 

_"Good girl. Very good,"_ Loki crooned _. "Now the blood. You must open the way with blood, my sweet one."  
_

 

* * *

 

Somehow Stella's athame was in her fist, and in a daze, she drew the sharp blade across her palm. Blood dripped and formed thick splatters on the floor. 

She fell to her hands and knees, panting and vertiginous. She was chanting mindlessly now, a stream of whispered words in a language she didn't know. The words were muffled to her ears. Black crept in from the edges of her vision and she collapsed.

 

* * *

 

Loki threw his head back and laughed, the sound ringing clear in the cell. The portal was large now and as clear as the enspelled glass enclosing his prison.

Grinning like a predator spotting a plump and tasty treat, he stepped neatly into nothing.

The girl's room was small, the wooden planked floor bare except for the little witch's circle of stones and the winding curls of sugar glistening like dirty diamonds in the moonlight.

"Oh!" Loki gasped, a mad delight obvious in his gleaming eyes. "You really are a _frightfully_ stupid girl."

 


	2. Silvertongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki defines 'mood whiplash' in the way that only he can, and our poor mortal does a great deal of whimpering and sighing.

Stella came to in a dazed confusion. Her vision swam and spun. When the blur resolved itself, she was staring up—really far up—at an impossibly tall man. From the floor he looked seven feet tall. 

 

   
_Oh shit,_ she thought in a panic. When she finally gathered her wits enough to speak, she said helplessly, "Your hair is not red."

   
"Ooh, it knows its colors," Loki mocked. "And I had thought all mortals were imbeciles."

  
"You're, um..." A thick gulp. "You're Loki. You're smashed- _half-of-New-York_ -Loki. Oh fuck. Oh Fuckfuckfu—"

He raised a hand and Stella's voice broke off. Loki stared at his hand, then at the girl's mouth, and grinned like a shark. It seemed his magic worked perfectly well on Midgard.

 Excellent.

"You may kneel, child."

"I am not a child," Stella mouthed. No sound passed her lips, and when she had finished her silent retort she found herself up on one knee in a pose like some medieval peasant before a king.

Okay, he wasn't seven feet tall. But presence was twenty feet tall. And it filled the room. There was a feeling like electricity surrounding her.

And Gods, he was breathtaking. Smoothed, silken hair black as crow feathers fell to curl elegantly at his shoulders. Flawless skin like fresh cream stretched over razor-sharp cheekbones. He looked imperiously down at her over a Roman nose from eyes greener and brighter than a human could possess. 

The infuriating gorgeousness of this psychopathic God was seriously messing with the very logical terror she was supposed to be feeling. It was there, a heavy knot in her gut, but it was quickly ebbing as she stared. And stared.

Then she noticed that she was openly gaping up at him and lowered her gaze. This was less effective than she'd wished, as when she turned her eyes down they slid over his slender, tightly muscled build and legs for miles. Evidently Asgardians did not favor modesty in the clinging cut of their clothing. 

Heat flooded to Stella's face and neck, at which point she remembered she was stark naked.

He laughed as if he could read her mind. Damn: for all she knew he could. He reached out and cupped her jaw, tipping her face toward him. 

"A blush looks quite lovely on you, girl," he said. 

His voice was a hypnotic drug. She could just drink it. Oh this was bad. This was very, very bad and she was going to die on her knees and she suspected he'd have her begging for the privilege of death by his hands before he killed her.

His fingers stroked her cheek and he ran his thumb softly over her lips. She gasped and he flashed that sharp smile again.

"Who am I, child?" he asked her.

She found her voice had returned. "Who... are you? Um. You're Loki. Loki..." Did Gods have last names? Or titles? "Loki... of Asgard?"

He hummed. " _What_ am I, Stella of Midgard?"

"How did? My name? How'd you know my name?" she babbled.

His hand tightened painfully, digging into her jaw. "What am I?" he hissed.

"A... a God. You're a God."

"Yes." he praised, changing his tone so suddenly it was disorienting. He was stroking her soothingly again with both hands, and slid his long fingers into the hair at the base of her neck, his thumbs brushing lightly against her ears. 

She shivered.

"And what do we do with Gods, Stella?"

Her voice quivered as she whispered, "We worship them."

"Oh, very good, little mortal. That is exactly your place isn't it? On your knees, a supplicant before the God you summoned?"

His touch was driving her to distraction. Her answer came without thought. "Yes... worship..." His fingers were sliding and stroking and petting her hair and neck and she was leaning into him unconsciously.

The terror was there, but fuck—his touch was something beyond seductive. The fright and pleasure were feeding themselves. Her heart beat hard and fast. She felt like a small animal locked in the claws of a predator. 

But woven through the rush of fear was a desire like nothing she'd ever known. He was driving her to madness, stroking his hands—long fingered, beautiful hands with which she was certain she'd just fallen in love—through her hair, over her face and neck and shoulders. He knew, it seemed, that the spots behind her ears and the dip between her collar bones and the nape of her neck were powerfully erogenous. Pleasure overwhelmed her and she closed her eyes to concentrate on the magic of those fingers.

He collected her hair together in his fist and pulled so she was forced to meet those eyes again.

"Oh, Stella. My little witch, you've done quite well for a mortal. I'm almost impressed with your skill. You helped me out of an... inconvenient situation. You called me to you, and I have come. And now it is time for us to fulfill the promises of your ritual."

An icy jolt shot through her spine. What were the words of the chant? What has she promised? She could only assume whatever she'd said was to be taken quite literally. For she had summoned a God, and no divine energy-feeling had answered; A flesh and bone deity had stepped very solidly into her apartment. The absurdity inspired a quick, nervous laugh.

Loki's smile dropped immediately and Stella's laughter was cut off with a sharp, stinging slap. 

She gasped and pressed her hand to her cheek, hot tears springing to her eyes.

He bent down at the waist, putting his face level with hers, and a tear slipped free from her eye. He smiled that knife glint smile at this, and caught the tear with his thumb. When he spoke, he was so close to her she could feel his breath.

"Know your place, creature." He was quiet and measured in his speech, but no less deadly for it. "You are as low as an animal to me. I am a God, a King. You were useful to me, girl, and I intend to reward you for that." His voice rose without warning to an enraged shout. "But you will not be insolent before me. Your prayers are vows to your Gods and you will do as you promised and you will do anything— _anything_ —that I will you to do!" 

His breath was hot on her face and tiny flecks of spit hit her as he screamed. She shook uncontrollably and wept in earnest. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean... I was just—" she choked on sobs as she spoke and the last words came out as a whisper:

"I'm so scared."

Loki's face changed again as quickly as the rage had come upon him. His eyes gleamed, wicked bliss evident in his every feature. He leaned in more, so near to Stella his lips just missed hers as he spoke.

"Good," he said, sliding back into the lush, sensual attitude, "You should fear me. I shall give you every reason to be terrified of what I might do to you, and then I will make every last one of those fears come true. I shall gift you such delicious pain and then I will visit upon you every pleasure in the worst possible way."

Stella whimpered. She could no longer sort out fear from wanting and the pain still hot on her face and it grew hotter with shame as she realized she liked it. She loved the expression he'd had when she'd confessed her fear aloud. It had been written clearly on his face that he was getting off on her fright. The knowledge that she could inspire that kind of desire in a God, even if it was her terror that brought it out, was intoxicating. 

If he kept looking at her with that lust in his eyes, kept taunting her with his poisonous, honeyed voice, he could strike her again and again. The thought made her cunt twitch deep inside her and she felt a hot trickle escape her. She blushed furiously, and let out a strangled whine.

"Ooh, you delightful girl," Loki said, "Your desire smells as enticing as your fear." 

Stella groaned.

Loki continued, "You are eager for me aren't you, mm? But so unruly." He cradled her face again. "I must teach you the meaning of worship, mortal. You will make true the words of your prayer, and you will do exactly as your God wills."

Stella wanted more than anything she'd ever desired to please her God. In the back of her mind she was aware that this feeling was not her. That every word he spoke, every evil grin, each gentle or painful touch was casting a cloud over her mind. She should fight this, she should at the very least _care_ that her mind was no longer hers, but she didn't even want to. The magic that seemed to radiate from him was just too good. She craved it. A being whose pain was as pleasurable as a kiss? No one could resist this. Who would _want_ to?

"What shall I do?" she asked tentatively.

Loki moved toward her again, tilted his head as if to kiss her, and brushed his velvet lips lightly against Stella's as he recited words from her own chant.

_"Take me, this one your wild priest, Who gives over to you in mind. Who offers my body a feast."_ I very much enjoyed that, Stella.

"And this, oh this is _too_ good." And now he spoke in her own voice: _"Come in, Silvertongue, and enter me."_

It was deeply unsettling to hear her voice come from his mouth, but then his own deep silken voice returned.

"Now that, my girl, could be interpreted in two ways. Tell me: Do you wish for the silver tongue itself to enter you or were you asking for the God named Silvertongue to enter you in any way he wishes?"

Her jaw went slack and she stared at him, absolutely struck dumb.

Loki moved from her lips to press his against the shell of her ear. "Tell me now, Stella," he murmured, "For I will have you any and every way I can imagine before I am sated. I simply want to know what you were asking of me."

Her breath caught and her heartbeat so loudly it seemed to shake her. She felt dizzy, and she lost her equilibrium and fell against Loki, her bare flesh resting against the leather trim on his clothes. 

"Everything. I want _everything_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a terrible & unrepentant tease. I make no apology, for once I start to write Loki monologue-ing, I cannot stop. It isn't my fault; it's Loki's. He's a GOD—I'm powerless against him. I wash my hands of it. 
> 
> More soon.  
> xx, Story
> 
> \--------  
> Edited 6/10/15 for formatting bullshittery.


	3. Humility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki: God of Mischief, Mindfucking, and the Filthiest Mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I start *really* to earn the non-con tag. Humiliation here is what I'd call mild, but I'm adding it to the tags.

Loki struck like a snake and seized her, green fire flashing in his eyes and teeth gleaming dangerously in the candlelight. 

The hands she'd learned to crave closed around her neck in an immovable grip. In an instant, she was slammed flat on her back, the chunks of sugar crystals crushed painfully against her spine and shoulders as she fought for air. 

She was losing the battle. 

Loki watched her curiously, as if studying her. 

Her pulse was thunder in her ears and her head pounded terribly and still he just looked on.

He maintained the relentless pressure with incredible strength but apparent ease, as he regarded her with perfectly detached coolness. 

Stella scratched and clawed weakly at his fingers but he showed no sign that he could even feel her fight.

Her eyesight shrank to a tunnel, dark and blurring at the edges and her field of vision held only the harsh angles of his face and his wild, witch-fire eyes.

_His threats of pleasure and promises of pain were lies_ , Stella thought. He'd been  toying with her and she was dying, right now. Before even properly touching him.

His face went dim before her eyes and the pain and pressure left her in a sweet, merciful rush as she slipped away.

* * *

Loki watched this tiny creature, the little mayfly caught in his web, as her face turned red and her pale eyes bulged, the whites shot through with blood red. Her veins fluttered beneath his fingers and the lovely fragility of her fascinated him. 

He waited idly as she flailed and tried to tear at him. A lazy grin pulled up the edge of his lips when he finally saw the focus leave her eyes and felt her pulse go thready and faint. 

When her irises rolled upward and her eyelids went slack, he loosened his grip and stroked her neck softly. A low thrum of magic moved into her blood, and he followed the twisting path of it toward her heart, laying his other hand on her chest and waiting to feel the power reach the struggling organ. 

It beat still, but pitifully. He skimmed his fingertips over the swell of her breast as he waited. He stared hungrily at the deep bruising on her throat, the redness already going violet. In moments, he sensed his power had reached its goal. The girl's heart beat a steady rhythm now but her chest rose and fell in an irregular pattern. Her breath was pained and gasping.

Loki moved his hands to play at both breasts, teasing their softness for a while, thumbing her nipples and then giving them each a hard squeeze before pushing magic into her lungs. 

Then he moved his grip back to her throat—so delicately—and he healed her completely so that he could ruin her again.

* * *

Stella came to slowly. She had dreamt. In her dream, she was a serpent made of smoke. She'd flown, swirling and dipping and coasting in a winding path downward. She was weightless still as she eased into consciousness. She felt a vague euphoria and numbness in her limbs, like when Hannah had convinced her to snort a little bump of heroin. 

When she woke fully, she winced. Her head was splitting with the slicing pain of a migraine.

"The first lesson in worship, little animal," Loki began, straddling her hips and bracing her tightly between his thighs, "is humility." He stroked the back of his hand affectionately along her throat and she remembered.

"I thought," she rasped, "you killed me." 

"Only nearly, pet," he smiled beatifically, as if his neglecting to murder her had been a gift of great benevolence. 

She imagined that was how he probably saw it. She closed her eyes against his insane expression and to alleviate the pain.

He pressed his thumbs into her temples. "Look at me!" he shrieked. 

She screamed. "I c-can't..." she whispered. "My head—migraine."

"Ah," he answered, rage evaporating as if it had never been. He gentled his touch, and she felt a warm flood of magic glide inside her.

She made a quiet, surprised "oh" that became a pleased sigh. 

"Do you see, animal, how I hold both your pain and your deliverance from it  in these hands?" He raised them, as if for her to admire. 

And she did. The lovely, thin fingers with skin like silk, creamy as bleached bone. Her mind was unraveling. She wanted him from the darkest core of her. It was all she could do not to push her hips against him where he sat solidly upon her. But she was horrified in equal measure. An obvious sociopath with the power of a God. Not a lover to wish for. 

But she wanted— _hard_ —and the more she fought it the more she wanted. She was twisting and trying to push against him now, not to throw him off but to slake her need, to find friction to rub against to relieve the needy ache.

He laughed. "No, no, no. The lesson, Stella, is worship. Rutting like a bitch," he spat, "is no way to adore your God, is it?"

He rose neatly, stealing the contact she'd enjoyed and pulled her up to her knees. "Onto the floor, girl." He pushed her to hands down so she was kneeling like an animal. A _bitch_ , she thought, loathing the increased pleasure surging through her at the thought.

And she cried out, as the grains of sugar dug into her knees and palms.

Loki smiled, looking infinitely pleased with himself. "Lower," he commanded, and when she lowered her head, he put his boot heel to the back of her neck, pushing her face toward the floor.

She tried to turn her head to the side but he bent low and forced her until her face met the ground.

"You were right, you know," Loki said conversationally, "about the sugar. I do so love sweets. And I promised you rewards, did I not?" He paused for effect before ordering her, "Lick."

Stella hesitated just a moment, then when his hands fisted painfully into her hair, she opened her mouth and put out her tongue hesitantly to swipe the tip of it along the trail of sugar on the floor. In her mouth, the crystals melted as she swallowed them down. 

The dark part of her that had thrilled at Loki's sharp slap sent another rush of warmth to her cunt. She hurt still, but she was aroused nonetheless. Perhaps because of the humiliation.

Reading her fucking mind again, he said, "There: Humility. Lesson the first. Oh, but I love this. Watching you eat from the floor like a dog. _Scenting_  you, as you prove to me that you love this little treat. Eat more, pet."

She didn't stall, but dipped down her tongue and swirled it through the sugar. The surrender brought her to a near swoon. She lapped again and again, savoring the rich sweetness of the sugar. She bit into a few larger crystals so she could feel the crunch between her teeth. 

Loki loosened his fistful of her hair, apparently trusting she would continue to behave. When Stella didn't falter in rhythmically licking the floor, he began to pet her with affection, lavishing praise on her like a well-trained pet. 

The pain in her hands and knees was nothing now, distant as her dream.

"Yes, yes, ooh, good girl. I am well pleased with my lovely animal. You can learn after all, yes?" 

She moaned openly, pausing in her eating only to answer, "Yes, thank you." 

Loki chuckled and stroked her from the crown of her head to the dip at the small of her spine, smoothing her tangled hair into a silver blonde mane with a negligible touch of magic. 

"They say, pet, that Loki is the most depraved of all Gods and monsters. Asgard believes I have done such ghastly acts—lain with a giantess, taken the fat cocks of men into me as a whore on her back, my ass filled to bursting." He waited for the arousing groan he'd come to expect of his mortal toy. She answered on cue. 

"The legends tell of my fucking a horse as a mare, then pushing my monstrous offspring through my cunt."

He slipped one hand close to the cleft of Stella's ass. "Tell me of your humiliations, pet. What wanton acts have you performed? I know you lay with that girl, for she was as an etched image in your memory when you called me. I saw you lap at her pussy as you now do your own floorboards." He laughed mockingly.

Stella was lost for words—Loki hadn't stolen her voice; she was simply shocked and overwhelmed.

He struck her again, on her ass, his palm splayed out and impossibly huge. The merciless slap left its own perfect crimson image that covered her ass cheek entirely.

When he spoke again, it was with deadly calm. "You were asked a question, child. Answer me."

Stella offered a quiet, "I don't know. I haven't—" 

She was cut off by another crashing strike to her ass, exactly over the raised imprint of the first. 

Hot tears sprung from her eyes and fell to the floor.

"Have you been taken in the ass, Stella?" 

"M-maybe?" she sobbed. "Just for a minute. It h-hurt so we stopped."

"A cock down your throat?"

"Yes."

"Do you like that, letting a man fuck your mouth, your throat?" he asked, voice dripping sin. 

"Yes," she answered, her voice thick and betraying her arousal.

Loki hummed thoughtfully. "Tell me, which do you prefer, little whore, sucking a cock or licking a wet cunt?" 

"Um. Both, I guess. They're different."

"But you love to fuck with that filthy mouth, yes?"

She was _panting_. "Yes." It came out as a needy whine.

He pulled her up, wrapping his hands around her thighs and seating her on his lap. He sat with his knees folded beneath him so she was astride his thighs. He spread his knees, forcing her ass to spread. He stroked her back gently with one hand and then without warning shoved three fingers of the other into her mouth.

As he forced his fingers between her teeth, he leaned in to her ear, and unnecessarily ordered, "Suck."

Stella moaned around the long fingers Loki plunged in and out of her mouth. The salt of his skin was heaven after the dirty-sweet sugar taste. Her mouth ran with saliva and she ran her tongue over and around his fingers with abandon.

When his fingers were slick and dripping, he held her hip still with the other hand and plunged the full length of all three into her ass.

Stella shrieked and slumped forward. The trance-like arousal left in an instant at the invasion. She began to whimper quietly against Loki's chest, "no no nonono..." Tears flowed freely as he poked and prodded and fucked. 

Grabbing her by the jaw he forced her face up to meet his, and with brutal joy dancing in his eyes, he said, simply and firmly, "Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gods, how did this end up with chapters?! It was going to be PWP but I CAN'T STOP.


	4. Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More delicious Loki darkness and moody mindfucking. Also the other kind.

Stella sobbed openly against Loki, punching and pushing against him with no effect. He held her nearly immobile with just one hand tight on the crest of her pelvic bone. She was grateful for the bruising pain there, small distraction though it was from the violation. 

Her ass burned and stung as he plunged in and out of her, stabbing and stretching her terribly with his long fingers.

She hated him with every fiber of her being then, cursing both him and herself in hysterical fits between huge, wracking sobs.

After an eternity of this, he withdrew his hand and moved it instead to stroke the back of her neck. It was a crueler thing, this mockery of comfort, than the invasion itself.

"There," he soothed, breath tickling her ear, "there, darling. You've learned a good lesson, yes?" 

Stella screamed against him and brought her hands up to claw at his face.

Her voice went silent again, the scream leaving only a faint echo in the small room. Her hands froze in the air, where Loki caught them in his and kissed them, for all the world as affectionate as a gentleman courting his sweetheart.

Stella tried to look away and found herself wholly unable to move. She panicked, her heart going rabbit-wild and her eyes wide and shining.

The princely smile on Loki's face would have been utterly charming any other time, but now it only cemented Stella's assessment that this man—God, monster—was completely, utterly motherfucking insane. 

He winked at her. 

She gaped at this. He was absolutely unhinged, so unpredictable she couldn't get her bearings. With no idea whether to expect a slap to the face or a soft caress, her mind reeled in circles.

He petted her hair and leaned in to press a chaste but lingering kiss on her lips. He was delicious. Her mind teetered, veering so suddenly toward desire it was dizzying. Velvety lips that tasted of honey wine covered hers and she could drown in him. She opened her mouth to taste him, hungry for a deeper kiss, but he pulled away and pressed a finger against her lips as if to say, _hush_.

She felt bereft with wanting.

_Oh my Gods_ , she thought, _I'm as insane as he is._

 

* * *

 

Loki cackled then at the girl's expression: She was so obviously lost he could not help himself. He had not honestly expected to stay so long with this distraction upon his escape but found himself unable to resist the lovely malice of undoing this hapless child who'd thought herself powerful enough to tame the God of Mischief. 

Well—there _was_ power here; enough to open the door between realms. And Loki could never help stopping to taste and to take a little power.

And, oh, she was giving it up so _easily_. He was playing her like a child's toy, and she knew it. She knew he was just teasing his prey but she was helpless not to play his game too. She fought enough (and thank the Norns for that) to make it interesting. She wept and flailed so prettily. She felt pain exquisitely and pleasure just as fully. 

She was, all in all, a perfect aperitif to inspire the havoc he would visit on Midgard when his interest in the mortal eventually waned.

For now, however, he was deeply and happily involved in his game.

The animal was staring at him with pitiful want writ all over its face. He leaned in, careful that his lips fluttered against her ear when he spoke, and whispered to her.

"You truly cannot decide, can you, little one? Do you wish to kill or to fuck me?" 

She couldn't answer, of course, but he hadn't wanted her to speak just now.

"I feel," he continued, "you must want both just now, mm? I can feel your mind trying to fix on a single point, but it cannot find any one truth there. That is the crux of your position. This is the worship of Loki, child: _There is never any one truth._ You shall continue to desire and to abhor me, to want and crave even as you scratch and whinge and struggle to escape. You will not, of course," 

The girl shook with pleasure at his voice and his lips whispering against sensitive skin.

He moved to her mouth, still holding her still with his seiðr. He spoke into her opened mouth, letting her taste and breathe him. Entering her again, so subtly.

"Oh but you love this, do you not? Feel how you shake and writhe for me. Even after the bit of violence I have let you sample, you still _quiver_ for wanting me."

He put a hand between her legs, the other resting soft against her throat. Oh yes, she wanted. He slicked his fingers on her, slipping back and forth against the swollen, heated folds of her sex. 

He could feel the vibration of her moan even with the sound of it stolen.

He brought his fingers to her face. "Look how you glisten, how your quim weeps for me." 

He hummed contentedly when this made her pulse quicken more and her eyes darken with wide pupils. They shone wet and glassy.

 "Do you want to taste me or yourself?" he asked again, smiling wickedly in knowing she could not answer even had he released her voice.

He grazed his fingers over her lips, eased the spell just enough that she could move in to lick them and take them into her mouth. Her eyes closed and the silent groan of delight was like a kitten's purr against his fingers. 

He let her suck at him until he grew hard from it, and pulled her down more firmly against his lap. He dropped the spells and let her voice and body free.

 

* * *

 

Stella felt the restriction on her movements fall away and ground herself onto Loki's erection. She could feel the thickness and shape and even the warmth of his cock through his leggings. 

She didn't notice the needy, groaning noises she made. Her world had been reduced to the warm friction against her cunt and the fingers she was kissing and licking and sucking.

Loki withdrew his hand, sliding it down to cup her breast, and spoke against her open mouth again. He let her kiss his lips and swipe her tongue against them as he spoke. 

"Good girl, ooh, just starving for me now, are you not?"

No answer, but the hungry kisses and sighs made the affirmative quite obvious.

"You are really mine now, mm? Lost in me? Answer me now, pet."

"Yes," she pushed out. It took great force of will to speak. 

"But darling, are you not afraid?" He pinched her nipple hard. 

The sharp pain earned a fresh wave of hot wetness from her. "Yes," she said. It was more whine than word.

He laughed a low chuckle. 

She ground harder against him. 

"Please," she gasped, delirious, "Please, I want. I want...." Her entire body shuddered, and her plea turned into a primitive grunt.

"Tell me," he demanded, biting at her earlobe. "I will give you what you need, Stella. But you must beg for it." He grazed her neck with his teeth, a little reminder of danger.

"I want, I need," she panted out, riding him and grinding against him, "Please, oh fuck, please." A gasp. "Please. Let. Me. Fuck. You. Please." 

He lifted his hips up, giving her more of his covered cock. He feigned thoughtfulness. Let her rock against him and favored the obscene noises and the wetness that was sweeping through his clothing now. 

 He hissed in pleasure. "Mm... Sweet little whore. Brought now from loathing me to begging?" He circled his hips, and her breathing sped up, a steady panting rhythm. She would come soon if he did not still her.

He liked he idea of her letting her climax on him, wetting his clothing unashamedly. Rubbing her sex on him like an animal driven to rut against anything it could.

But he liked denying her so, so much more. 

He stilled his hips, and taunted her again. "Yes? That is what you want? You want to fuck me?"

Oh the sound of that coming from his sultry voice, it was sin incarnate.

"Mm hmm," she managed, mind half gone and orgasm beginning to build.

He tossed her off in a blur of speed and she was pressed belly down on the floor. Loki was on her, his cock pressed against the cleft of her ass, a fist in her hair and a hand wrapped around the back of her neck. His face planted flush against her, his sharp cheekbones digging against hers.

"No," he said, and cackled.

Then his voice went deadly serious with whiplash speed. "No, whore, _I_ fuck _you_."

He grabbed her wrist and held her against the floor with her arm twisted painfully against her back. He raised his hips just enough to slither out of his leggings.

 

* * *

 

The lust this might have inspired was lost to sudden pain. The goddamn sugar crystals were grinding into her again. Under her face, her knees, every point of pressure where her body's softness didn't cushion. Her asshole stung still and her arm was on the verge of popping out of its socket. 

Then Loki moved her wrist over her head, forcing the other to meet it and grasping them both tightly in one hand. The other he slipped between her legs, gliding against her. She wanted to open to him, but he'd penned her in between his legs, and he could only tease the outer lips of her pussy. She was wet there, though, and the pain faded to nothing as he stroked her, pressing his cock between the cheeks of her ass. 

His presence there terrified her, after the unwelcome penetration, but the hot length of it felt so good. He parted his legs a little, and her desire won over her fear. She spread her legs and raised her ass, opening to him, and he obliged her, moving his hands deeper against her, rubbing her inner lips and teasing a hot rush of slick from her. 

He hummed with approval and moved deeper, pushing his fingers inside her, so long and lovely she almost wept. She cried out when he pulled out and pushed in again, enough fingers that the fullness of it was perfect. 

He plunged into her only a few times and she was coming hard, clamping down so her cunt gripped and sucked at his fingers.

Loki let slip a low grunt, and gathered the wetness to coat his cock. He pressed it firmly against the cleft of her ass, and the sweet glow of her orgasm stopped dead. 

 

* * *

 

He laughed, a little more breathless than he'd like. He teased and threatened, thrilling in the feeling of using his prick as a weapon. He moved easily against her, thick beads of his pre-spending adding to the fluid slide between the mounds of the girl's lovely ass.

She was weeping now, still held fast in his grip as he thrust against her. Occasionally he'd pause, prodding at her hole and rumbling a low chuckle. He had not entered her, but the threat of penetration kept her edgy. Her breath hissed out in short gasps between her teeth. 

At last, he grew bored with teasing her, and opened his fist to lace his fingers through hers. She was still captive, but he allowed her arms some range of motion, bent at the elbows but with her hands gripped in the steel of his fingers. She clenched up tightly, every nerve raw and her muscles so tense they shook.

And then he entered her in a quick, decisive stroke. Stella's shout of alarm ended in a muffled sound of pleasure as he forced his way into her cunt. She was still slippery-wet but had tightened so with dread that he barely fit. The heat and grip of her core was perfect.

He steadied himself; it had been long, long months since he'd taken another but he mastered himself quickly.

 

* * *

 

Stella bit down on her lips to quiet the scream that rose in her. He was huge, thickness stretching her and the length of him spearing her impossibly deep. Relief and bliss flooded through her and she raised her ass to him, eliciting a pleased hum from Loki as he pulled back and pushed back in.

He fucked her in a slow, deliberate rhythm that was as frustrating as arousing. Stella tried to fuck herself back against him and he locked his hands down on her hips, forcing her against the floor and maintaining complete control of his thrusts. She whimpered uselessly then slumped down, going slack beneath him.

"Oh, does it want more?" he taunted.

"Please," she gasped.

"How badly, little animal?," he drawled. "How much do you want more of this?"

She sobbed. "Please... God, Loki, mm... God, please!"

He went still, buried in her to the root of his cock. "You'll be a very good girl?"

She nodded enthusiastically. That voice was smooth but held such bite, like good bourbon.

"Answer my every demand," he continued, "every whim, with perfect obeisance?"

"Y-yes. Yes, of course. Please..."

He pulled out of her, pressed his erection against her thigh as he spoke against her ear again. 

"Then I shall allow you to worship me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just absolutely FUCK formatting when I paste in text here. Blargh! I've been diligently removing all the extra line breaks but I have lost the will to care at this point.
> 
> Just one more chapter to go, I think. 
> 
> I'm pretty sure at this point that I'm going to rework this into a piece for a collection of Wicca & mythology themed erotica I'm publishing for Kindle in a while. It'll be myth!Loki, obviously, and I'll have to retool a lot to remove Marvel references. My husband insists I should probably be getting paid for writing so much porn;) I did embark on my fanfiction adventures as practice, so he's not wrong.
> 
> But I'm in the rabbit hole now; I couldn't leave this fandom if I tried. And since I'm a grown-ass woman who spent a good 45 minutes staring at photos of Tom Hiddleston making sadfeelfaces on Tumblr this morning, I am not really trying.
> 
> xx


	5. Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stella submits. Wouldn't you?

Loki rose up to his full height, regarding Stella imperiously. "Stay down," he ordered. 

 

She obeyed, having rolled to her back so she could stare. And stare she did, her eyes drinking their fill of him. He was as composed as she was shaken. His leggings laced again, every strand of hair smoothed back, no sign of exertion on the marble cool of what little skin was visible.

 

She no longer felt the brittle bits of sugar digging into her, though Loki began to pace slowly, and his boots crunched on the floor where her circle was in disarray.

 

"Is there any reasonably soft surface in this... dwelling?" he sneered, disdain dripping from him. 

 

"My bed," she answered, breathless. "Through there. End of the hallway." She pointed.

 

"Follow," Loki said.

 

She began to rise.

 

"On your knees."

 

"Of course," she murmured. The answer came automatically. She lowered her head and, palms flat on the floor, she followed slowly.

 

She found him reclined on a small nest of pillows on her bed. Clothed still, down to the boots. She was dying to see more of that creamy, lean-sculpted body. He seemed to fit on the mattress only because his torso was partially upright. The soles of his boots reached the foot of the bed.

 

He instructed her no further so she stopped at his feet. She didn't rise to kneel, holding her position on hands and knees and lowering her face toward the floor. Her pout at missing more of the smug, regal look on his face was mostly hidden by a curtain of hair.

 

"Good pet," he praised. "You may rise upon your knees now."

 

She rose up dutifully, resting her ass—the burn was subsiding—against her calves and her hands on her knees. Her gaze settled on his boots and took in those legs, stretching forever, wrapped in the supple leather that clung like a second, dark skin.

 

* * *

 

Loki was basking in the glow washing over him. The little witch knew not what power she could access, nor how easily Loki could take it. Her face was all but painted with her transparent eagerness. 

 

She was fully quiescent now— _tamed_ , he thought contentedly, kneeling for him expectant yet obedient. Simply awaiting his command. It was delectable, this feeling. Savory. He longed suddenly for the days long ago when the mortals of Midgard's northlands had chanted his name in prayer, fed him the intoxicating power of true worship.

 

He remembered too well the feel of Gungnir in his fist, his heavy helm gleaming as he had sat at the Allfather's great throne. The reluctant bows of Sif and the fool warrior men so loyal to his arrogant brother. The rush of power that had flooded him when they'd knelt, fists over their hearts, oh but that had been a sweet victory. Too short-lived by far, but so sweet.

 

He remembered the easy weight of the scepter on Midgard. How he'd loomed over the cowed mass of humans, their fear better perhaps even than worship.

 

And before him now he had both at once, presented like a feast to be had at his leisure. Fear and desire mixing like a chemical reaction to formulate worship.

 

"Name your God," he commanded.

 

"Loki," she answered immediately. "Loki," she breathed, reverent and lustful. "Loki Prince of Asgard, Loki Silvertongue." She sighed softly, perhaps she did sense his feeding on the words. "Loki... Oh, Beautiful Loki Liesmith, Loki Razor Wit... Mmm... Loki my Lord, my Prince, no..." 

 

She hesitated, sensing something, before continuing. "Loki, my King."

 

He gasped at this, relishing the feel of the words. He let her see how it pleased him to be lauded so.

 

"My God, ah... my God before me in flesh and bone and blood. Let me love you, worship you, touch you? Please..." 

 

Her head had bowed, her face obscured.

 

"Look to me, my little darling. Meet my eyes."

 

She locked her gaze to his, pale irises nearly swamped by the black, open pupils. He could see her pulse flicker at her temple, could smell her sweat and sex. Longing was obvious in her every feature.

 

He pitched his voice to its lowest registers. He spoke slowly, enunciating so that every syllable was rich and thick as honey. "You will adore me, every inch of me, as I command it."

 

She moaned at this, his words captivating her and drawing her farther in to him.

 

"You will submit to my rule, and my flesh shall be your altar, your heaven and your sustenance."

 

She looked nearly faint, but still she knelt, holding her body as he'd instructed her. 

 

And she was lovely like this, he was in truth well pleased his escape had been at the hands of such a pretty thing, this small creature of such frailty and softness.

 

He loved watching her struggle. This fight to remain still and quiet was a fight to obey, to give him what he desired. He smiled broadly, and spoke with his most deadly seduction.

 

"I am your entire world."

 

* * *

 

Stella's mouth fell open on a gasp. That voice was a thing of magic itself: He spoke and his words insinuated themselves into her mind and became infallible truth.

 

She felt drunk on his words, this litany of praise and demands and she could drown in her wanting, gulp down the music of his command, fall hypnotized into the green shimmer of his eyes and die in their gravity.

 

But when his lips began moving again, they pulled her eyes to the subtle divot of the cupid's bow, the spare curve of the bottom lip, the color of them that was the dusky rose of sex and sharpened pearls beyond them gleaming.

 

"I will have you, girl, bless you with the flesh you crave. You have only to earn it."

 

She nodded as in a trance. "Tell me what you want, and I will give it."

 

"I want first, for your tongue..." He waited for the reaction, rewarded with her eyelids fluttering half-closed, before continuing with a crueler attitude. "You've made a sticky mess of my boots, and I wish them cleaned."

 

 

Stella reacted as if he'd stroked her inside. With a shameless sigh of pleasure she moved closer to the bed, placed an adoring kiss on the tip of each boot, and set to her task. She smoothed her tongue over the dirt and sugar on the soles, her mouth watering so freely both washed down her throat easily with frequent swallows. When she dared a peek at Loki's face, he seemed to be caught by the picture she made. When the bottoms of the boots shone, she traced over the tops, licking and sucking over the unyielding leather, praying silently that he'd allow her to treat the thin, soft leggings the same way.

 

"So good, my child, soooo good." That, _my child,_ was designed to echo the priests of her world. She knew this, and hearing it in the voice of sin itself, drawing out the vowels so, it was the most erotic thing she'd ever heard. Her cunt wept at it.

 

Loki's boots shone with her kisses, and he called her up onto the bed as he drew himself up straighter. He still crowded the bed with his length, and he guided her to straddle his feet.

 

"These trousers, they will not do, pet. See how you've sullied them? _Animal._ Clean your mess."

 

And _fuck_ , she could see it, the faint misty dampness at his lap where she'd sat, and her face burned. She moved anxiously to lick at his groin, and he grabbed a vicious handful of her hair.

 

"No, no. We must not do a task lazily. You will wash every part of them, yes?" He didn't wait for her to answer, but shoved her face against where the leggings disappeared into his boots.

 

She began to work methodically in long, upward strokes, wetting the entirety of the leather she could reach without moving her body. After this she set diligently to work on his other leg.

 

She had no choice but to work carefully and steadily, as Loki had held tightly to the twist of her hair.

 

But she thought him the most gracious deity in all the heavens or the most decadent of hells, for as she licked and kissed her way along his legs, he allowed her contact with his boots, and the rounded tops of them were soaked where she ground herself against them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is about half of the happenings (I wouldn't really call it plot) I meant to write for this chapter but it was getting long and though I'm not looking at word counts I want them to be vaguely consistent in length, and since none has had any real resolution to poor Stella's aching dilemma so far it seemed fitting to leave this on an evil, teasing end as well. More soon, darlings! xx


	6. Quench

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The event for which we've been waiting, as hungry as our little Stella.

Loki was enthralled by the rhythm of the mortal's movements: her small pink tongue darting out then gliding over his leather; the hips moving in undulating circles as she pushed her cunt shamelessly against his boots. His cock was achingly hard, blood beating its own relentless rhythm and it wept with want. Her face and mouth were warm and he spared a thought of gratitude for the fine, thin suppleness of Asgardian leathers.

She'd performed so well he had released his grip on her hair. She had worked her way slowly and steadily upward and now her mouth reached the tops of his thighs, so close to the swell of his erection, and her motions faltered as she climaxed, shuddering against the hard bone of his shin.

He supposed this meant she'd ruined her previous work but the idea was fleeting. He was quite impatient to take her again and find his release. As she panted her way through the waves of her orgasm collapsed against him, he cast a quiet spell over himself. He would be able to endure his pleasure now until he wished to release it. 

He had always been quick to rouse again after spilling, so coming down the girl's throat was no true end. But it would not do for the mortal to know his eagerness.

Stella tried to hold back, but Loki hadn't forbidden orgasm. And she had in the end no real choice in the matter: when she crept the last little way up his legs, he shifted beneath her and a slim, lovely leg rubbed against her just perfectly. The hard plane of bone slotted against her and the crest of pleasure hit her without warning. She slumped over, resting her cheek against his thigh, realized she was coming against his leg like a dog, and groaned quietly as that drew out her pleasure further.

As soon as her mind cleared, she righted herself, straddling him carefully to avoid any contact with her sex, so sensitive right now.

But Loki shoved his leg up, grinding his knee against her hard, and she cried out at the almost-pain. Her clitoris was swollen and vulnerable and the contact was far too much.

"Get back to work," He sneered. 

She whimpered softly and resumed her licking, mouth watering as she approached his cock. It strained hard in its leather confines, the thickness and length clearly visible and she was dying to touch and _oh, please God, please Loki_ taste it.

But she didn't dare rush, only worked methodically, slicking her tongue over the tops of his thighs and then at last the insides of them, edging so close to his prick she could feel its heat and shape looming just out of reach. She bit down ever so gently to still the helpless sounds of want she was making. This earned her a quiet hum of approval and so she began softly teasing at the leather-over-skin, biting gently and suckling and licking and dropping sweet kisses from hungry lips.

His breathing had become a bit harsh, just enough for her to notice. She felt a giddy thrill at this, and at the heat she could feel beckoning her and she couldn't wait now. She looked up at him and opened her mouth to ask—

He cut her off with a hissed, "Yes."

She bent back to him, and when his leg came up against her she met it with a roll of her hips—pleasurable now as arousal grew urgent again. She traced her tongue along the warm press of his cock and pushed long lines of wetness against the rigid length, her licks as firm as she could manage. She needed this to feel good for him, needed to show him how she adored him.

Her mind was centered only on this purpose, and whether it was magic or desire or a heady mix of both, the whole of her being was the act and the feel of devotion.

 

* * *

 

Loki was being washed by warm, gentle waves as power of the child's worshipful touch flowed over and through him. It lulled him to contentment even as his hunger laced through it with a sharp ache. 

He felt the heat of her tongue as she licked long, curving paths onto the leather stretched so taut over his erection. His balls swelled and tightened, anticipating climax so soon. The idea to hold himself back with his seidr had been a good one. 

He let the girl lick and prod at him and enjoyed her frustrated longing for his flesh as much as the physical sensation. He petted her hair, stroked his fingers behind her ears and over her neck, watched her push into the touch like a kitten. He praised her sweetly, loving the obvious way his voice inflamed her. 

He let her persist until she was reduced to a needy mess of high, soft whimpers, mindlessly begging:

"Please, please give it to me, please Loki please let me taste you."

This shattered his patience, the sound of her cries and oh, the pitiable state of her, rutting against his leg so shameless and begging for his prick.

He gripped her firmly at the neck, careful now that she should be able breathe yet was held still, and slowly he unlaced his leggings. 

She was vaguely aware that she spoke, the words spilling from her mind unbidden but any feeling that she should hold onto control of herself had long been abandoned. She writhed against Loki's leg and did her best to suck at his _still fucking clothed_ cock. She could really only slide her mouth against it, suck at the slight swell of the head and the bulge of his balls, and keep stroking the length.

When she thought she'd go mad from the torture of almost having him, one silken hand closed around her throat. His grip was strong but reserved. A surge of arousal took her breath, though it was not a choking hold.

She watched greedily as his other hand untied the laces on his leggings, long pale fingers moving with spiders' grace. He worked deliberately slowly, and when he finished, he palmed himself through the leather, still denying her.

Her voice was little more than breath, but she babbled and begged. "Please, Loki. Please let me have it. Let me suck it... worship you, let me worship your cock." A hungry moan followed this plea and she lost her words a moment. And then, "I'll make it good, make you feel so good, please..."

"If I have you now, let you suck me, spill deep in your throat, then you will let me have you any other way I choose. I will have you every way."

"Nnnmm... Gods, ah, Loki, God, yes. Anything you want."

"You beg so prettily, girl. Will you beg like this for me to fuck your arse? Scream for wanting my prick to fill you until you weep with the pain of it? Will you bend over for me and plead for the ache, the burning, the humiliation? Let me fuck and brutalize you until the pain yields to unspeakable pleasure?"

"Yes," she whined. Why had she balked at this before? She couldn't fathom denying him anything. All she had to give, all she was, it was his. 

"Sweet, is it not?" Loki asked, "This surrender? Letting me take you completely? You love this. I can see it clearly on you. Hear it in that wheedling little voice."

And _his_ voice, those words, oh she was drunk on them. 

He dragged her to him, the hand at her throat tightening so that she was a little dizzy. He spoke so close she could feel his breath, warm on her face, ghosting over her lips. 

"Show me then. Let's see how much you can take. Will you choke on my cock or swallow me down like a practiced whore? For I will have you _deep_ , Stella. You take all of it or you will have none."

She groaned at this. She had no idea how she'd manage at all. He was huge, thick and long and the image of him down her throat was sending chills through her. She couldn't find words to give her assent, but she nodded and moved toward him greedily.

Loki stoked her face almost affectionately and pushed her down to sit at the edge of the bed, and rose to his full, imposing height above her. His cock rose up from his loosened leathers, flushed red with need. 

Stella tilted back her head to meet his gaze and make a silent plea with her eyes. 

Loki cradled her face with both hands, then yanked open her jaw and thrust himself between her lips. She moaned around his girth at the taste and feel of him. So hot, more silken than his hands, and the taste of him—the vague salt of skin, remnants of leather, and the tangy musk of sex clinging to him. 

She sucked sweetly at his cockhead, lapping up beads of fluid from the slit. This tasted different than the humans she'd had. Still salty, but the bitterness was replaced with a slightly sweet note. She thought of honey, and loved this. She thought he tasted as if he fed only on nectars and confections. 

She forgot for long moments that she was meant to pleasure her God, and just explored his taste and texture, in a rapture of bliss. Dazed by the size of him, she ran her tongue from the root to the crown. She opened her mouth wide and took him as far as she could, to feel the thick bell of the head bump against the back of her throat. 

This was heaven, and she moaned around him, which spurred him at last to take control. He jutted his hips forward, somehow forcing himself deeper. He caressed her neck and throat softly, and she felt a tiny rush of magic sink into her, and Stella found her throat opening to accommodate his length more easily. He pushed on, until she was filled with him, her nose pressed into his dark, glossy curls. His scent was so strong here she groaned loud and starving, thrilling at being full of his cock and surrounded by his scent.

 

* * *

 

Every wanton sound the girl made sent deep vibrations through Loki's cock and into the core of him. He'd pushed in as far as he could go, but the child was so small. Needing more, he cast a simple spell to open her and he nearly gasped out in bliss as he buried himself to the hilt in her throat.

She loved this, moaning like a whore and every gorgeous sound reverberated through him. He pulled back so she could suck him back in and she grunted like a beast as he sank back into her greedy mouth. 

Sunk seep in her throat, Loki told her "Swallow around my cock," modulating his voice with care that it wouldn't betray his pleasure. But she swallowed and the fluttering clench around him was too good and he let go a breathless "Oh."

He let her swallow and suck and the bliss of it drew his pleasure out to the edge and his spell held him there at the brink. He wondered why he'd never thought to cast his seidr thus before. It was perfect agony to be caught so, in that perfect knife's edge between climbing toward release and falling over into orgasm.

He took her truly then, holding back climax but heeding his instinct to chase it, and he fucked her throat deep and hard, holding her still with a hand cradling her skull and the other forcing her jaw into the perfect angle to fuck into her. 

He watched with dark glee as saliva escaped her mouth like it wept for him, and tears ran freely from her eyes. And oh _that_ , seeing her crying from the ecstasy of his cock and being overwhelmed so at his using her mouth and throat, that would have brought him off but for his spell.

He drew it out, using her until he knew she was hurting despite his little magic opening her throat, knew that when he let her go her voice would be rough and pained. When he felt he would go truly mad from denying himself, he dropped the spell.

 

* * *

 

Stella was feeling slightly faint; it was difficult breathing through her nose with her lips pulled taut over the thickness of Loki's cock. He wasn't even letting her suck him off—he was fucking into her, jamming himself into her throat. 

She had somehow grown accustomed to the length of his erection and could swallow around him, but the relentless driving in was nearly painful. A small rivulet of saliva escaped now and again to send a frisson of shame through her. 

It seemed she'd been taking Loki's cock for an eternity before he showed any sign of approaching orgasm. But then all at once this restraint shattered and he drove even deeper, and the pain of it was worth hearing the sounds he made as he let himself go. Breathy, barely audible moans became soft grunts became deep grunts and moments after he began to show his pleasure he was spilling down her throat and Stella nearly swooned—the _taste_ of him—the Gods did not taste like men. Loki's spill was seawater and honey; a hint of the vague sharp tang of a woman's sex and something of sweet wine. And she would swear to all Gods she could taste the magic in his seed. 

She wondered for a moment if she could bottle this what spells she could craft with it.

But she'd greedily swallowed down every sublime drop of the lovely, syrupy fluid and she very much doubted this wicked God would allow her to keep so potent a piece of him. Then she gasped a little. Her throat and belly had gone warm and tingling as if she'd drunk a potent liquor.

He held her still, sighing contentedly until his prick went soft, then he withdrew gently.  

Stella sank back, resting her ass on the backs of her legs and feeling drunk and dazed and sated but wanting all at once. Her cunt was wet and hot and she could feel her vulva and clit swollen and beating with blood as if her heart had gone to live between her legs.

She watched reverently as Loki straightened tall and impossibly beautiful above her. He undressed completely, moving slowly and as gracefully as, she'd come to learn, he did everything. 

When he was nude and pale gleaming more befitting a marble statue of a God than a flesh God himself, he smiled down at her. Stella was suffused with a warm, beatific glow.

She met his eyes, saw the glint of satisfaction in them, and waited patiently for him to command her further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this just.... keeps...going. Two more chapters perhaps, though maybe only one. Updates ought to be more frequent this week, sweetlings.


	7. Supplication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You are mine to command, yes?"
> 
> "Yes."
> 
> "I have your total, unquestioning obedience? Your absolute adoration and unfaltering worship?"
> 
> She couldn't help a soft groan as she answered, "Yes. Everything, my God, king. Yes."

Stella sat silent and still, heart drumming as Loki held steady, unblinking eye contact. His gaze was hypnotic and she let the waves of his power wash over her. He wasn't casting a spell; it was as if his very being were saturated with magic and it spilled out from him.

 

He was beauty and strength and imperious charisma, and those emerald irises held her rapt and awed.

 

Her own eyes felt glassy and blurred from arousal. The heated slick of her cunt was a firm, pleasant pressure against the backs of her legs. Beneath her desire she felt deep, perfect peace—as if in a trance. 

 

It was unspeakably lovely. Having surrendered to her God she was wholly content, warm and glowing through to her bones.

 

An amused smile played at Loki's lips as he allowed her to sink ever deeper into her rapture. He drew the moment out, holding her captive with just those eyes and drawing her in so far she lost awareness of everything but the sharp jeweled green stare.

 

When he spoke, Stella gasped softly at the heavy silence breaking and at the sultry silk of his voice. 

 

"You are mine to command, yes?"

 

" _Yes_."

 

"I have your total, unquestioning obedience? Your absolute adoration and unfaltering worship?"

 

She couldn't help a soft groan as she answered, "Yes. Everything, my God, king. Yes."

 

A little crescent moon smile, and his hand moved to his cock, palming it lightly as it began to swell. 

 

She squirmed and whimpered, staring at the cream of those long fingers playing over the flushed red-violet of his cock. 

 

"You want this?" he asked.

 

She whined. "Yes, Please, yes, I do. Please." She was breathing hard, nearly panting. 

 

He leaned in close, bending far at the waist to bring his face level with hers. When he spoke she felt little gusts of hot air against her face. "Where do you want it?"

 

She stuttered out an automatic reply: "Eh-Everywhere."

 

"Specifically, child." He was composed almost entirely of condescension, Stella would think later.

 

When thought became _possible_.

 

"My cunt, my ass. Anything you want. I don't care..." She was panting lightly. "Just, just _want you_."

 

"There," Loki praised. "That wasn't so terrible, little one, was it? And oh, I love that word you use. We say 'quim' and oh, Stella, you should see the how the maidens blush at that. The scandal of that filthy little word. But it sounds soft, yes? Apt. But you, oooh—you'll happily bury your own face in one and call it this blunt, sharp word. I love it."

 

He petted her hair gently, and commanded, "Show me your _cunt_ , Stella."

 

* * *

 

Loki watched her eyes flare wide and then drop shyly for a hesitant moment before she lay back on the bed. 

 

She slowly raised her legs, bent her knees and paused for just a moment, high color staining on her cheeks, then parted her legs wide.

 

Loki grinned at the display of flesh, but even more at her obvious reluctance. Her devotion to him had won out over it and that was a thing to be savored.

 

She was such a darling little thing. Small and pale and precious. It was strange the way most mortal women trimmed and shaved their body hair meticulously, but it displayed the flesh in a blatant way that held appeal. Stella's quim shown pink and plump surrounded by that fair skin and a tidy little thatch of fine, golden hair. He could see the glistening slick at the mouth of her little hole.

 

He moved toward her and plunged three fingers in, cherishing the sharp gasp it drew from the girl. He immediately set to fucking her deep and fast, plunging and twisting his fingers relentlessly until she was a squirming, whimpering wreck. 

 

When he grew impatient, he hooked his fingers into the front of her silky-wet tunnel and grazed his thumb gently against the little pearl of her clitoris. 

 

Her entire body quivered as she climaxed again.

 

* * *

 

Stella rode out the last waves of her orgasm, her legs jerking and her cunt still clenching weakly. Her eyes had fallen closed and now she forced them open, not wanting to miss a moment looking at her God.

 

He was staring back hungrily, eyes bright and wild. A frisson of fear shot through her, sharpening her pleasure into something more, something vast and unnameable— the edge of worship and terror.

 

Then Loki began to play and tease his erection lazily, despite that hungry gaze. Stella moaned softly, and Loki's lips twitched into a pleased smirk. 

 

He stroked her softly, velvety fingers slipping down again and again, in long gliding motions from her clit to her ass. She realized he was gathering her wetness to her ass and guessed his purpose of course, but _oh_ , it felt far too good to care.

 

When she was writhing under his touch, he made an elegant twisting gesture in the air, and a vial of golden fluid appeared in his hand. 

 

That little thrill of fear danced through her again. Loki grinned.

 

Still petting her, he set the glass bottle on her nightstand and pulled out the cork, giving her clit an extra little tease that distracted her from worry.

 

He poured out a bit of the fluid into his cupped palm and the scent of honey and lavender and something unidentifiable filled the air. He removed that soft stroking hand and the loss made her ache. He dipped those elegant fingers into the fragrant oil and finally she was touched again—a warm, slippery glide swirling around her tiny, puckered hole and it felt warm and sweet and perfect. 

 

He resumed teasing ever so gently at her clit as he traced along the cleft of her ass and slipped a finger over her hole again and again. Never threatening to penetrate, he seemed to want to show her what pleasure she could find there and she was beginning to move in helpless little swivels of her hip. 

 

Loki palmed his cock, spreading the golden oil over his length and fisting it to cover it entirely.

 

He abandoned her clit and moved his fingers to her cunt, plunging in hard and setting a rhythm of push-pull that really was even better when he swiped his thumb over her asshole. She was squirming and groaning now, the bliss of Loki's touch building to needy hunger. 

 

He pushed that thumb just softly against the entrance, his long fingers crooked inside her cunt. He didn't press inward, just tested the little opening tentatively. 

 

He withdrew his fingers to pour more oil over them and tipped the vial over her hole. The oil was charmed or carried medicine herbs that warmed and relaxed her wherever it touched. When he gave her his fingers again she was dying for them. She wanted them desperately in her ass and her cunt. He obliged, again as if reading her mind.

 

He filled her pussy with three fingers, twisting as he fucked her. When the rhythm had her moaning uncontrollably he pushed one thin finger slowly into her ass. 

 

With the warm, relaxing oil, it felt sinful and decadent. She gasped at the sweetness of being penetrated in two ways. But already she wanted more. And again, her God gave her what she craved. Another finger, and then another. 

 

When he started fucking into her deep and slow with those impossibly wonderful fingers, she felt pleasure begin to crest again. She felt the fluttering spasms starting in her cunt and he slowed there, focusing his thrusts on her ass. He drizzled more oil on his fingers and added the fourth, the lengths of them pressed firmly together. The thickness of them now was delicious. He moved slowly in her cunt but fucked her quicker, deeper in her ass. 

 

She writhed and twisted on the bed, moaning and grunting with primal, animal noises. She was transported in her ecstasy. When she cried out for Loki to fuck her, "Please, please give me your cock," she was barely aware she spoke. 

 

Loki smiled like a shard of glass and pushed in.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, an update! With a smutty cliffhanger, sort of? 
> 
> So I decided I loved the dialogue about 'cunt' versus 'quim' and I need to go back and change any chapters with Loki's point of view where he says cunt rather than quim. But I have the stirrings of a truly wicked headache so I'm resisting being a perfectionist until later.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, little Pearly sister and other darlings following this and forgiving my absolutely horrid work ethic.
> 
> xx, Story

**Author's Note:**

> I issued myself a challenge to write a Loki/OFC story back when I first posted 'Seeing Into the Dark'.  
> PrettyPearlNecklace was part of a discussion in the comments about how frankly terrible those 'Mary Sue' fics are, so I'm gifting this to her:) Its only resemblance to my life is my knowledge of how Wicca works, though I gave it the Hollywood treatment, obviously.
> 
> One further note: In the cell, Loki retained enough magic to cast illusions and to destroy his furniture in The Dark World, but it seems to have become something of a convention in fan works that his magic was bound since The Avengers. I felt it suited my plot to have him an extra-cranky Loki without his power.
> 
> _________________________________________________________  
> As always, you may find me on Tumblr as 'darklittlestories'. This has caused confusion so I've added that name as a pseud here and am editing my posts to use that as the author. xx, story


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